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Toño the Infallible
An unforgettable yet humane novel that takes us into the heart of Colombia’s brutal society, by one of the country’s most renowned writers
I was alone when someone pounded on my door. Who could it be?
So begins Toño the Infallible, Evelio Rosero’s gripping novel about an intense relationship between a writer and a sociopath. Visited by his friend (a kind of Colombian Rasputin) seemingly at the verge of death, the writer, Eri, looks back on the arc of both of their lives. Unique in both its tone and its structure, the novel takes us from their student days (school fights, playground revelations, and an unforgettable trip to the seaside) into their adult years, involving rumors of a hippie cult and a bizarre raucous theater exhibit of history’s most violent crimes. Toño uses his charm and wealth—as well as reputed magical powers—to manipulate others, but it isn’t until the end of the book that the devastating truth is revealed—and how true is it? Reminiscent of the fiction of Roberto Bolaño and the films of Alfonso Cuarón, this brilliant novel takes us into the heart of his country’s darkness, creating an unforgettable portrait of a society where humanity still endures, despite its brutality.
I was alone when someone pounded on my door. Who could it be?
So begins Toño the Infallible, Evelio Rosero’s gripping novel about an intense relationship between a writer and a sociopath. Visited by his friend (a kind of Colombian Rasputin) seemingly at the verge of death, the writer, Eri, looks back on the arc of both of their lives. Unique in both its tone and its structure, the novel takes us from their student days (school fights, playground revelations, and an unforgettable trip to the seaside) into their adult years, involving rumors of a hippie cult and a bizarre raucous theater exhibit of history’s most violent crimes. Toño uses his charm and wealth—as well as reputed magical powers—to manipulate others, but it isn’t until the end of the book that the devastating truth is revealed—and how true is it? Reminiscent of the fiction of Roberto Bolaño and the films of Alfonso Cuarón, this brilliant novel takes us into the heart of his country’s darkness, creating an unforgettable portrait of a society where humanity still endures, despite its brutality.
224 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 2017
23 people are currently reading
556 people want to read
About the author
Evelio Rosero
43books133followersEvelio Rosero Diago was born in Bogotá, Colombia, on March 20, 1958. He is a Colombian writer and journalist, who reached international acclaim after winning in 2006 the prestigious Tusquets Prize.
Evelio Rosero studied primary school in Colombia’s southern city of Pasto, and high school in Bogotá, where he later attended Universidad Externado de Colombia obtaining a degree in Journalism. When he was 21, he won Colombia’s Premio Nacional de Cuento del Quindío 1979 (National Short Story Award of Quindío), for his piece Ausentes (The Departed) that was published by Instituto Colombiano de Cultura in the book 17 Cuentos colombianos (17 Colombian Short Stories). In 1982 he was awarded with the Premio Iberoamericano de Libro de Cuentos Netzahualcóyotl, in Mexico City for his earlier stories, and that same year, a novella under the title Papá es santo y sabio (Dad is holy and wise) won Spain’s Premio Internacional de Novela Breve Valencia. After these early successess, Rosero fled to Europe and lived first in Paris and later in Barcelona.
His first novel in 1984 was Mateo Solo (Mateo Alone), which began his trilogy known as Primera Vez (First Time). Mateo Solo is a story about a child confined in his own home. Mateo knows about the outside world for what he sees through the windows. It is a novel of dazzling confinement, where sight is the main character: his sister, his aunt, his nanny all play their own game while allowing Mateo to keep his hope for identity in plotting his own escape.
With his second book in 1986, Juliana los mira (Juliana is watching), Evelio Rosero was translated into Swedish, Norwegian, Danish and German to great acclaim. Once again, the visual experience of a child, this time a girl, builds the world of grownups and family, unveiling all the brutality and meanness of adults as seen with her ingenuousness. Juliana’s world is her own house and family. As Juliana watches her parents and relatives, she builds them. Her sight alters objects as she contemplates them. This was the first book where Rosero involved other themes from Colombia’s tragical reality such as kidnapping, presented here as a permanent threat that in the end justifies Juliana’s own confinement.
In 1988, El Incendiado (The Burning Man) was published. With this book, Rosero obtained a Proartes bachelor in Colombia and won in 1992 the II Premio Pedro Gómez Valderrama for the most outstanding book written between 1988 and 1992. The novel tells the stories of a group of teenagers from a famous school in Bogotá, Colegio Agustiniano Norte, denouncing the education taught by the priest headmasters as “fool, arcaic, troglodite and morbid�.
To date, he has written nine novels, beginning with Señor que no conoce luna in 1992 and Cuchilla in 2000 which won a Norma-Fundalectura prize. Plutón (Pluto) published also in 2000, Los almuerzos (The lunches) in 2001, Juega el amor in 2002 and Los Ejércitos, which won in 2006 the prestigious 2nd Premio Tusquets Editores de Novela and also won in 2009 the prestigious Independent Foreign Fiction Prize organized by the British newspaper The Independent.
Evelio Rosero currently lives in Bogotá. In 2006 he won Colombia’s Premio Nacional de Literatura (National Literature Prize) awarded in recognition of a life in letters by the Ministry of Culture. His work has been translated into a dozen European languages.
Evelio Rosero studied primary school in Colombia’s southern city of Pasto, and high school in Bogotá, where he later attended Universidad Externado de Colombia obtaining a degree in Journalism. When he was 21, he won Colombia’s Premio Nacional de Cuento del Quindío 1979 (National Short Story Award of Quindío), for his piece Ausentes (The Departed) that was published by Instituto Colombiano de Cultura in the book 17 Cuentos colombianos (17 Colombian Short Stories). In 1982 he was awarded with the Premio Iberoamericano de Libro de Cuentos Netzahualcóyotl, in Mexico City for his earlier stories, and that same year, a novella under the title Papá es santo y sabio (Dad is holy and wise) won Spain’s Premio Internacional de Novela Breve Valencia. After these early successess, Rosero fled to Europe and lived first in Paris and later in Barcelona.
His first novel in 1984 was Mateo Solo (Mateo Alone), which began his trilogy known as Primera Vez (First Time). Mateo Solo is a story about a child confined in his own home. Mateo knows about the outside world for what he sees through the windows. It is a novel of dazzling confinement, where sight is the main character: his sister, his aunt, his nanny all play their own game while allowing Mateo to keep his hope for identity in plotting his own escape.
With his second book in 1986, Juliana los mira (Juliana is watching), Evelio Rosero was translated into Swedish, Norwegian, Danish and German to great acclaim. Once again, the visual experience of a child, this time a girl, builds the world of grownups and family, unveiling all the brutality and meanness of adults as seen with her ingenuousness. Juliana’s world is her own house and family. As Juliana watches her parents and relatives, she builds them. Her sight alters objects as she contemplates them. This was the first book where Rosero involved other themes from Colombia’s tragical reality such as kidnapping, presented here as a permanent threat that in the end justifies Juliana’s own confinement.
In 1988, El Incendiado (The Burning Man) was published. With this book, Rosero obtained a Proartes bachelor in Colombia and won in 1992 the II Premio Pedro Gómez Valderrama for the most outstanding book written between 1988 and 1992. The novel tells the stories of a group of teenagers from a famous school in Bogotá, Colegio Agustiniano Norte, denouncing the education taught by the priest headmasters as “fool, arcaic, troglodite and morbid�.
To date, he has written nine novels, beginning with Señor que no conoce luna in 1992 and Cuchilla in 2000 which won a Norma-Fundalectura prize. Plutón (Pluto) published also in 2000, Los almuerzos (The lunches) in 2001, Juega el amor in 2002 and Los Ejércitos, which won in 2006 the prestigious 2nd Premio Tusquets Editores de Novela and also won in 2009 the prestigious Independent Foreign Fiction Prize organized by the British newspaper The Independent.
Evelio Rosero currently lives in Bogotá. In 2006 he won Colombia’s Premio Nacional de Literatura (National Literature Prize) awarded in recognition of a life in letters by the Ministry of Culture. His work has been translated into a dozen European languages.
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July 12, 2017
Toño Ciruelo, como toda novela de personaje (p.e. Malacara de Guillermo Fadanelli), se centra en el crecimiento, aprendizaje, acciones y pensamiento del protagonista y en cómo su existencia afecta a todos aquellos que están a su alrededor; por ello esta novela está absolutamente llena de Toño, cada página rebosa su presencia hasta desbordar el libro mismo y surgir como una presencia constante en la vida del lector. Al lado de Toño, giran como satélites sus dos amigos: Fagua y Eri (narrador de la novela); a quienes Toño lentamente destruye física y psicológicamente. Es por esto que la novela de Rosero se puede leer como la descripción detallada del continuo deterioro no solo de Fagua y Eri, sino la decadencia de un mundo que fue apropiado y arrasado por Toño Ciruelo. Esta novela sobresale en la producción de Rosero porque, si bien comparte muchos de los elementos que ya estaban presentes en otras de sus obras, la decisión narrativa del autor se transforma radicalmente convirtiendo a la maldad pura, como un estado alterado de conciencia; pero, para entender mejor esta propuesta de lectura de la novela de Rosero, es necesario crear algunas relaciones con otras novelas. En muchas de las novelas de Rosero encontramos una decisión narrativa importante: Rosero, como escritor interesado en narrar el terror, el horror y la violencia, se encuentra en medio de una bifurcación de caminos. Uno de los caminos está dirigido a una narración más cercana al testimonio que, en lo personal, considero está afectando a lo literario más que expandiendo su campo. Las formas en las cuales se intenta adoptar elementos del testimonio y de la crónica a lo literario, parece estar tomando un camino equivocado al minimizar la ficción en pro de lo verídico y no de lo verosímil. El otro camino, el que toma Rosero, es el de exaltar hasta el punto más extremo los elementos de lo ficcional para subrayar la calidad de lo literario; pero en este momento se enfrenta a un problema: llevar al extremo lo literario (el simulacro en términos de Baudrillard), puede sacrificar la verosimilitud del relato, razón por la cual utiliza una serie de mecanismos narrativos que posibilitan que el límite de lo ficcional entre en las fronteras de lo real: las deformaciones de las visiones de mundo a través de estados alterados de conciencia (vejez, alzhéimer, alcohol, consumo de drogas, etc.). En esta novela, contrario a novelas como Los Ejércitos, Rosero no usa los estados alterados como elemento narrativo que se posiciona en el texto, sino que lleva el tema de la maldad, la perversión, la oscuridad y la crueldad a un extremo tal que permite que el mal se convierta en un elemento que se mueve en el límite entre lo real y lo irreal, es decir que la maldad se convierte en un filtro tan fuerte que puede alterar la percepción del mundo (esta lectura sobre la poética de Rosero merece elemento de seducción. Pareciera ser que uno de los fondos temáticos de la novela de Rosero es observar cómo la violencia aparece como un elemento que se expande a medida que encuentra lugares para habitar cada un texto aparte que en este momento estoy trabajando para publicación). Y es justamente esta visión de la maldad que se mueve en el límite entre lo real y lo fantástico (una alteración en estados de realidad que roza lo abyecto de Kristeva) la que permite el paso a un segundo plano: la maldad de Toño como ser humano; así la violencia no se observa en esta novela a partir de una moralidad falsa, sino como una especie de semilla que todos tenemos y que basta con observarnos de manera objetiva para entender que somos Toño Ciruelo. Cada una de las acciones de Toño es desplazada de su sentido común (que está marcado en la mirada de Eri) y se convierte en el punto de llegada de un deseo más real y sólido que el inicial. Así, lo sexual se vuelve animal, el crimen es justicia, el asesinato un rito religioso; siempre los desplazamientos hacen que se inserte todo tipo de violencia dentro de lo cotidiano y de lo posible (todos seríamos capaces de cometer esos crímenes). La forma en la cual el autor consigue que haya solidez en esta propuesta es a través de un in crescendo en la violencia que la va normalizando. Así, el asesinato que aparece como la irrupción de la maldad al inicio de la obra, se convierte en un acto casi cotidiano al finalizar la misma; cuando la violencia se normaliza, crea un espacio de lo social diferente que al inicio parece deformar lo real, pero que después se convierte en una vuelta a la verdad que estamos cubriendo bajo un manto de moralidad que se desvanece. Así al final no solo notamos que nunca hemos escuchado a Toño más que por la voz de Eri; momento en que la voz de Toño aparece por medio de unos escritos escalofriantes que rememoran todo lo realizado por Luis Alfredo Garavito y reposicionan la obra en el campo de lo real. Vemos entonces que Toño no es sino la contraparte de Eri, y que los dos forman una dupla que se complementa convirtiendo a los dos personajes en uno solo. Entrada completa en:
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August 29, 2022Here’s the setup: Eri, the narrator, is visited by an old acquaintance, Toño Ciruelo (a Maldoror-esque figure). Eri then recounts events in his life as they relate to Toño.
Through this, we get a portrait of Ciruelo: he’s hyper violent (using weapons to gain advantage), he blasphemes holy sights and fights paralytics with glee, he re-enacts bloody scenes from history, sexualizes Mary Magdalene, forcibly presents the horrors of the world through a circus, he acts as leader of a hippie commune, has sex with a convent of nuns, repeatedly commits murder and rape (influencing people through unspecified mystical powers), and, upon dying, he rises to kill again.
Through Ciruelo’s cruelty we see the darker (but all too real) aspects of humanity, the way people take advantage and feed off of one another, the way organizations and governments roll over/never consider the human being, the terrible harassment adolescent women face, the danger that art/reading provides: liberty constantly coming under fire or becoming irrelevant in a culture consumed by distraction.
The pace of this book is fantastic. Things are always moving towards some cryptic event (punishment around every corner for transgressive behavior), efficiently descriptive (of, say, a bride in her dress peeing in the woods), painting the scene without bogging it down, pulling you (like Eri) along, rubberneckers guiltily wanting to see the wreckage (a primeval impulse). In much the same way as the narrator, I almost felt Toño’s voice in my head, compelling me forward.
We are asked to question how real Ciruelo really is. How real are his confessions and crimes? In the end, does it matter what’s real if the idea of his actions and their reflections give us glimpses into the dark heart of humanity and reflect the hideous nature of societies/systems that create such monstrous behavior?
[review copy provided by New Directions]
Through this, we get a portrait of Ciruelo: he’s hyper violent (using weapons to gain advantage), he blasphemes holy sights and fights paralytics with glee, he re-enacts bloody scenes from history, sexualizes Mary Magdalene, forcibly presents the horrors of the world through a circus, he acts as leader of a hippie commune, has sex with a convent of nuns, repeatedly commits murder and rape (influencing people through unspecified mystical powers), and, upon dying, he rises to kill again.
Through Ciruelo’s cruelty we see the darker (but all too real) aspects of humanity, the way people take advantage and feed off of one another, the way organizations and governments roll over/never consider the human being, the terrible harassment adolescent women face, the danger that art/reading provides: liberty constantly coming under fire or becoming irrelevant in a culture consumed by distraction.
The pace of this book is fantastic. Things are always moving towards some cryptic event (punishment around every corner for transgressive behavior), efficiently descriptive (of, say, a bride in her dress peeing in the woods), painting the scene without bogging it down, pulling you (like Eri) along, rubberneckers guiltily wanting to see the wreckage (a primeval impulse). In much the same way as the narrator, I almost felt Toño’s voice in my head, compelling me forward.
We are asked to question how real Ciruelo really is. How real are his confessions and crimes? In the end, does it matter what’s real if the idea of his actions and their reflections give us glimpses into the dark heart of humanity and reflect the hideous nature of societies/systems that create such monstrous behavior?
[review copy provided by New Directions]
March 20, 2023
2.5
I enjoyed this, but it also falls off around 150 pages in. My caring ceased. The Bolaño/Cuarón comparisons on the backcover feel half-baked. This has more to do with Bret Easton Ellis, but Rosero doesn't have much of a sense of humor. Toño the Infallible presents a despicable character doing despicable things as the narrator/protagonist watches on and says over and over again that he hates Toño but can't disconnect from his hellish, demonic companionship. It's fun and works when it works but, in the end, seems a tad hollow.
I enjoyed this, but it also falls off around 150 pages in. My caring ceased. The Bolaño/Cuarón comparisons on the backcover feel half-baked. This has more to do with Bret Easton Ellis, but Rosero doesn't have much of a sense of humor. Toño the Infallible presents a despicable character doing despicable things as the narrator/protagonist watches on and says over and over again that he hates Toño but can't disconnect from his hellish, demonic companionship. It's fun and works when it works but, in the end, seems a tad hollow.
July 21, 2023
"Ciruelo, you're a lie on two legs, a delirium, a simulacrum, a utopia."
Toño is in fact an intolerable, enigma and unforgiving character as any I've ever met in probably nearly every other literary form. At times he seems like the devil incarnate exploring the abyss of the human heart and brain, and for this very reason, Evelio Rosero has written a poetic car crash tale of sins in the history and present of both Colombia and the rest of the world. Eri is both enraptured and completely disgusted by Ciruelo's actions and words at every turn. In this relation, Rosero explores the aspects of indifference in being a spectator to these extreme acts that seem inhumane and impossible to act on.
"No religion, no political ideal or social structure truly concerns itself with the human being; they are concerned only with the interests of an organization, a society, a family, which may or may not be numerous...but never the human being, or planet Earth as a being, and they won't ever. Evil is congenital, it is some innard alongside the heart of man, if not the heart itself."
The systems we have in place today have been built on violence by men lacking any sense of moral code with unifying ideals and principles. Evil is a part of every human ever born, and Rosero explores this to the max. At times I was questioning whether Ciruelo was a human or a creature from the depths of hell. And I still don't know if these ideas are mutually exclusive. Looking at the world through the far-from rose-coloured lenses of Rosero's glasses is not for those who are timid in the face of a good old reality check of our brutal and terrorizing world.
"Love for me would be to kill you with my hands."
Is this a book that raises awareness or exploits violence toward those lacking in social or political currency, especially that towards women? I'm not sure how to answer that as this book is filled with numerous ideas that confront the current truth of our state of affairs as a species. No holds barred and fully committed, Toño the Infallible by Evelio Rosero is like if Fernando Melchor took acid and had written a Colombian take of The Master and The Margarita. The more time away from finishing it, the more it simmers inside of me.
"They captured the world, but not its creator."
"I understood nothing except that the whole world was asleep."
"Ciruelo could make even God laugh."
"My path was the abyss."
Toño is in fact an intolerable, enigma and unforgiving character as any I've ever met in probably nearly every other literary form. At times he seems like the devil incarnate exploring the abyss of the human heart and brain, and for this very reason, Evelio Rosero has written a poetic car crash tale of sins in the history and present of both Colombia and the rest of the world. Eri is both enraptured and completely disgusted by Ciruelo's actions and words at every turn. In this relation, Rosero explores the aspects of indifference in being a spectator to these extreme acts that seem inhumane and impossible to act on.
"No religion, no political ideal or social structure truly concerns itself with the human being; they are concerned only with the interests of an organization, a society, a family, which may or may not be numerous...but never the human being, or planet Earth as a being, and they won't ever. Evil is congenital, it is some innard alongside the heart of man, if not the heart itself."
The systems we have in place today have been built on violence by men lacking any sense of moral code with unifying ideals and principles. Evil is a part of every human ever born, and Rosero explores this to the max. At times I was questioning whether Ciruelo was a human or a creature from the depths of hell. And I still don't know if these ideas are mutually exclusive. Looking at the world through the far-from rose-coloured lenses of Rosero's glasses is not for those who are timid in the face of a good old reality check of our brutal and terrorizing world.
"Love for me would be to kill you with my hands."
Is this a book that raises awareness or exploits violence toward those lacking in social or political currency, especially that towards women? I'm not sure how to answer that as this book is filled with numerous ideas that confront the current truth of our state of affairs as a species. No holds barred and fully committed, Toño the Infallible by Evelio Rosero is like if Fernando Melchor took acid and had written a Colombian take of The Master and The Margarita. The more time away from finishing it, the more it simmers inside of me.
"They captured the world, but not its creator."
"I understood nothing except that the whole world was asleep."
"Ciruelo could make even God laugh."
"My path was the abyss."
March 13, 2017
"Ciruelo hacía reír a Dios".
Evelio Rosero es un autor como ningún otro. Si bien sus escritos con frecuencia se ciñen a episodios particulares de la desgarradora historia de Colombia, sus palabras trascienden el contexto del país para abarcar el mal como una entidad universal que no tiene ni lengua ni patria.
Tres años después de Plegaria por un papa envenenado, su sublime denuncia contra la prodigalidad católica, regresa con Toño Ciruelo, un retrato desgarrado (en cuanto a fragmentado, a sugerente) de un Max Demian contemporáneo. El narrador, Heriberto "Eri" Salgado, rememora cómo este aparente asesino a la fuga ha ejercido una influencia significativa en todos aquellos que se han cruzado en su camino. Desde su primeros años de bachillerato hasta bien entrada su adultez, Eri no ha podido escapar de la pesadez de la presencia de Ciruelo, aquel imponente gigante que no para de crecer y quien controla su alrededor a su gusto. Este último desborda los límites de la amistad, fraternidad y civismo; sin importar quién sea, su deslenguado impacto es inminente y sus allegados sólo pueden seguir viviendo bajo su macabro manto. Ciruelo es un ilusionista y el mundo es su escenario; Eri, por lo tanto, es aquel espectador que indaga cómo hace los trucos.
Si bien no es la primera vez que la literatura relata la omnipresencia de un personaje fugaz, en particular en la iberoamericana (cfr. Pedro Páramo, Los detectives salvajes, El impostor, entre muchas otras), Toño Ciruelo es una robusta exhibición atroz de la sugestión narrativa. Los esporádicos recuerdos de Eri pueden asumirse como mala pesadillas, como malestares de sus tripas. Sin embargo, he allí su valor: en una época en la que se pretende hallar las indiscutibles verdades detrás de aquellos bestiales parias de nuestra civilización, Toño Ciruelo es una construcción en perpetua obra negra.
Evelio Rosero es un autor como ningún otro. Si bien sus escritos con frecuencia se ciñen a episodios particulares de la desgarradora historia de Colombia, sus palabras trascienden el contexto del país para abarcar el mal como una entidad universal que no tiene ni lengua ni patria.
Tres años después de Plegaria por un papa envenenado, su sublime denuncia contra la prodigalidad católica, regresa con Toño Ciruelo, un retrato desgarrado (en cuanto a fragmentado, a sugerente) de un Max Demian contemporáneo. El narrador, Heriberto "Eri" Salgado, rememora cómo este aparente asesino a la fuga ha ejercido una influencia significativa en todos aquellos que se han cruzado en su camino. Desde su primeros años de bachillerato hasta bien entrada su adultez, Eri no ha podido escapar de la pesadez de la presencia de Ciruelo, aquel imponente gigante que no para de crecer y quien controla su alrededor a su gusto. Este último desborda los límites de la amistad, fraternidad y civismo; sin importar quién sea, su deslenguado impacto es inminente y sus allegados sólo pueden seguir viviendo bajo su macabro manto. Ciruelo es un ilusionista y el mundo es su escenario; Eri, por lo tanto, es aquel espectador que indaga cómo hace los trucos.
Si bien no es la primera vez que la literatura relata la omnipresencia de un personaje fugaz, en particular en la iberoamericana (cfr. Pedro Páramo, Los detectives salvajes, El impostor, entre muchas otras), Toño Ciruelo es una robusta exhibición atroz de la sugestión narrativa. Los esporádicos recuerdos de Eri pueden asumirse como mala pesadillas, como malestares de sus tripas. Sin embargo, he allí su valor: en una época en la que se pretende hallar las indiscutibles verdades detrás de aquellos bestiales parias de nuestra civilización, Toño Ciruelo es una construcción en perpetua obra negra.
November 12, 2018
4 días y 228 páginas después. El último libro colombiano que traje desde mi viaje, según recuerdo en la librería me dijeron que era novela negra o algo parecido a thriller... no pudieron estar más equivocados.
Del libro podría decir que comienza bastante normal, tranquilo, entendible; una historia que se planea contar de atrás hacia delante, pero poco a poco se transforma en algo confuso, y en algo demasiado irreal para ser creíble (me gusta imaginar, tengo imaginación, pero esto debraya en la fantasía producida por las drogas).
Leí la primera mitad en un día, pero se fue decantando en partes, se fue deconstruyendo y tomando varios carices. Se quiere explicar tanto, abarcar tantos espacios y panoramas tan diferentes, que no se puede explicar ni uno solo.
Lo más rescatable es la historia/eje principal de todo, es la que te lleva a terminar la historia. Es una mezcla rara de ideas, países y narrativas. Un tipo que es raro, pero llamativo... y todo lo que conlleva su pasado.
No es el peor libro del 2018, pero estuvo cerca de serlo. No habrá reseña, ni nada más del autor en este año.
Del libro podría decir que comienza bastante normal, tranquilo, entendible; una historia que se planea contar de atrás hacia delante, pero poco a poco se transforma en algo confuso, y en algo demasiado irreal para ser creíble (me gusta imaginar, tengo imaginación, pero esto debraya en la fantasía producida por las drogas).
Leí la primera mitad en un día, pero se fue decantando en partes, se fue deconstruyendo y tomando varios carices. Se quiere explicar tanto, abarcar tantos espacios y panoramas tan diferentes, que no se puede explicar ni uno solo.
Lo más rescatable es la historia/eje principal de todo, es la que te lleva a terminar la historia. Es una mezcla rara de ideas, países y narrativas. Un tipo que es raro, pero llamativo... y todo lo que conlleva su pasado.
No es el peor libro del 2018, pero estuvo cerca de serlo. No habrá reseña, ni nada más del autor en este año.
June 5, 2017
Un observador complaciente observa a lo largo de su vida cómo un amigo de la infancia se va transformando en un sádico asesino.
Evelio Rosero es un escritor raro. De a ratos la novela parece ir por buen camino, y de pronto todo se pierde en un sin fin de párrafos innecesariamente enrevesados y esquizofrénicos que al final terminan en nada.
De verdad tengo ganas de que me gusten sus libros, porque creo que "" fue extraordinario, pero entre "", y "" creo que ya lleva dos strikes. Mi último intento será con "".
Evelio Rosero es un escritor raro. De a ratos la novela parece ir por buen camino, y de pronto todo se pierde en un sin fin de párrafos innecesariamente enrevesados y esquizofrénicos que al final terminan en nada.
De verdad tengo ganas de que me gusten sus libros, porque creo que "" fue extraordinario, pero entre "", y "" creo que ya lleva dos strikes. Mi último intento será con "".
November 27, 2017
Primera vez que leo a Evelio y que buena experiencia, definitivamente esta historia me atrapó y me generó cierta sensación de incomodidad a la vez, se me hacía increíble lo que el personaje quería hacer al morir en la casa de su conocido para que le echaran la culpa del crímen. Aunque esto a su vez me encantó, a pesar de gustarme tanto si hubo momentos en que me desconectaba de la historia y que me parecía un poco más densa, pero en términos generales estuvo bastante bien!
February 21, 2023
delirious, spiraling, cacaphonic � reminds me a bit of Naked Lunch in the final section
April 16, 2023
“she absorbed me, and I became nothing, but not in some subtle meditated way, but rather purely, like pure nature, or clairvoyance, absolute indifference or absolute detachment: she simply found herself in a world in which you did not exist.� Wow, I just finished this novel and I already want to reread it. Easy 5/5 stars. Incredibly captivating and well written. Toño is an extremely well-rounded literary character that is both transparent with his his hell-bound state of mind, while also being a complete enigma and a mystery to unravel. Not a literary character that I will soon forget
April 25, 2017
El Averno hecho Libro.
Lo acabo de terminar y ya lo quiero volver a empezar. El dominio del lenguaje de Rosero es impresionante; como ningún otro.
"ME ASOMBRÉ, Y VOLVIÓ EL ESCALOFRÍO"
"...sentí que yo tenía silencio, que yo era el frío silencio, frío silencio en cada objeto, frío silencio en los huesos, frío silencio en el hígado, frío silencio en el corazón, sentí que yo también había muerto."
Lo acabo de terminar y ya lo quiero volver a empezar. El dominio del lenguaje de Rosero es impresionante; como ningún otro.
"ME ASOMBRÉ, Y VOLVIÓ EL ESCALOFRÍO"
"...sentí que yo tenía silencio, que yo era el frío silencio, frío silencio en cada objeto, frío silencio en los huesos, frío silencio en el hígado, frío silencio en el corazón, sentí que yo también había muerto."
December 12, 2019
228 páginas que me resultaron eternas. Un sinsentido, una historia delirante absurdamente compleja, confusa, de la que poco podría hablar porque después de miles de palabras leídas no me quedó nada digno de recordar.
December 31, 2019
Mórbido y cruel. ¿Por qué no conocía esta realidad?
June 12, 2022
This was a great character study. This book had one of the best opening pages I’ve ever read. I did feel like there was a lot of backstory but overall this was an engrossing novel.
October 22, 2023
Talk about derivative, nothing you haven’t see before, all the men are reading books and talking about fucking (note, strictly talking, save for the book’s namesake) and all the women? Well they’re just getting fucked.
Rosero wants to write with flare and panache and verve but he rarely achieves vague amusement, underdeveoping to a fault and relying on flowery language and “poetic license� to carry him. Commas and colons and semicolons abound to no avail, confusing the narrative and cluttering the scene. None of the characters are likable either. The story’s vessel, a stand-in for its author named Eri, is a righteous prick with nothing to say, his friend friend Fagua is a thinly veiled and stupid gay joke and Tono is a sociopath, though I will say, an interesting one at least!
The first two sections consist of Eri recounting run-ins with Tono and the final one is primarily a reprint of the material Eri finds in Tono’s single, 100-page notebook upon his death(?) Tono’s writings are perhaps the most engaging of the whole book, a horrific glimpse inside the mind of a man obsessed with death and the need to fulfill his sense of self by purging others of theirs. Rosero finally approaches the sublimity he strove for earlier, shedding the urge to regurgitate endless strings of synonyms and opting for a simple, fleeting images which feels much freer than anything written prior. The only issue is that it doesn’t feel earned coming when it does. In the nearly 200 pages prior, Tono shows himself to be manipulative, cruel, cunning, eccentric, intelligent, obsessive, horny and narcissistic but never violent, making his transformation into Colombia’s (and perhaps the world’s) most prodigious serial killer feel sudden and inconsistent.
There’s a better version of this novel in which the framing device from its end becomes its beginning and instead of spending 200 pages on Eri’s recollections of Tono they’re spent on Tono’s recollections of himself.
Rosero wants to write with flare and panache and verve but he rarely achieves vague amusement, underdeveoping to a fault and relying on flowery language and “poetic license� to carry him. Commas and colons and semicolons abound to no avail, confusing the narrative and cluttering the scene. None of the characters are likable either. The story’s vessel, a stand-in for its author named Eri, is a righteous prick with nothing to say, his friend friend Fagua is a thinly veiled and stupid gay joke and Tono is a sociopath, though I will say, an interesting one at least!
The first two sections consist of Eri recounting run-ins with Tono and the final one is primarily a reprint of the material Eri finds in Tono’s single, 100-page notebook upon his death(?) Tono’s writings are perhaps the most engaging of the whole book, a horrific glimpse inside the mind of a man obsessed with death and the need to fulfill his sense of self by purging others of theirs. Rosero finally approaches the sublimity he strove for earlier, shedding the urge to regurgitate endless strings of synonyms and opting for a simple, fleeting images which feels much freer than anything written prior. The only issue is that it doesn’t feel earned coming when it does. In the nearly 200 pages prior, Tono shows himself to be manipulative, cruel, cunning, eccentric, intelligent, obsessive, horny and narcissistic but never violent, making his transformation into Colombia’s (and perhaps the world’s) most prodigious serial killer feel sudden and inconsistent.
There’s a better version of this novel in which the framing device from its end becomes its beginning and instead of spending 200 pages on Eri’s recollections of Tono they’re spent on Tono’s recollections of himself.
November 7, 2022
Set in Bogotá, a writer named Eri recounts his strained friendship with a cunning and sadistic man called Toño Ciruelo, over the years he has known him, from schooldays as 14 year olds, to the turbulent years of their mid-thirties, to the present day, when he turns up unexpectedly having not seen each other for twenty years.
Toño has a strange power over Eri. Though he dreads him turning up into his life again, he has a certain admiration for him. As he examines their past it disgusts him that he has had acquaintance with such a man. As he recounts the various incidents they have been involved in together, the reader also gets the picture of a scandalous and terrifying individual.
The novel begins really well, and for its first fifty pages is completely compelling. However, too often it gets bogged down in the politics of the day loses its impetus. The sections of dialogue are when the novel is at is strongest, but as a whole I would have preferred the chubby mid-section trimmed by 30 pages or so.
Toño has a strange power over Eri. Though he dreads him turning up into his life again, he has a certain admiration for him. As he examines their past it disgusts him that he has had acquaintance with such a man. As he recounts the various incidents they have been involved in together, the reader also gets the picture of a scandalous and terrifying individual.
The novel begins really well, and for its first fifty pages is completely compelling. However, too often it gets bogged down in the politics of the day loses its impetus. The sections of dialogue are when the novel is at is strongest, but as a whole I would have preferred the chubby mid-section trimmed by 30 pages or so.
October 25, 2022
"playing god...if not giving life then at least giving death...finally there came a day when I could leave myself with but a single occupant: me. Complete."
I have loved writing from Latin America, esp. the works of Alejandro Zambra (translated by Megan McDowell) and Daniel Alarcón (who writes in English). So I was excited to find the work of Evelio Rosero at the Community Bookshop in Brooklyn (discovering new writers is the biggest pleasure of going to a physical bookshop).
And I was not disappointed at all. There's a reason this book got a shoutout from the brilliant Hisham Matar. So many moments in the book will stay with me: particularly the first time Eri goes to Tono's house, the roadtrip the three friends take, and the manuscript to the end of the book. The writing is gorgeous, and the books evokes emotion at a heightened level because of the way it's written. The translators did a brilliant job (Victor Meadowcroft and Anne McLean).
I have loved writing from Latin America, esp. the works of Alejandro Zambra (translated by Megan McDowell) and Daniel Alarcón (who writes in English). So I was excited to find the work of Evelio Rosero at the Community Bookshop in Brooklyn (discovering new writers is the biggest pleasure of going to a physical bookshop).
And I was not disappointed at all. There's a reason this book got a shoutout from the brilliant Hisham Matar. So many moments in the book will stay with me: particularly the first time Eri goes to Tono's house, the roadtrip the three friends take, and the manuscript to the end of the book. The writing is gorgeous, and the books evokes emotion at a heightened level because of the way it's written. The translators did a brilliant job (Victor Meadowcroft and Anne McLean).
June 18, 2023
Pulp dressed up as literature. The violent sex acts and other depravities of the titular character are described in lusty poetic detail, over and over. Meanwhile, all the other characters are made to exclaim, over and over, "Oh how horrible he is! Yet I can't walk away from him! Oh how I hate him! Yet I also love him!" Yawn. The author also make this main character "write" a bunch of boring poetry, then makes the other characters exclaim that it's genius, which is just masturbation.
Critics call this a "unflinching" look at the evil within us all and a "probing" sociopolitical commentary. But there's zero commentary or reflection from the book. In reality, it's a Rorschach of pulp that critics are assigning random meaning to.
If magical realism rape fantasies push your buttons, have at it.
Critics call this a "unflinching" look at the evil within us all and a "probing" sociopolitical commentary. But there's zero commentary or reflection from the book. In reality, it's a Rorschach of pulp that critics are assigning random meaning to.
If magical realism rape fantasies push your buttons, have at it.
May 14, 2024
“Toño exploits and degrades sufferers in all sorts of ways. He revels in their physical disabilities by showing how able-bodied and healthy he is, and uses their stories to fulfill his own sadistic narratives in performance art pieces. Toño’s art and platform as an artist is indicative of the type of person he is, and in a perverse way, its ridicule of his audience allows it to exist.� (chirereviews)
i liked this book but at times during the end it dragged on . it was very entertaining and it took a bit for it to pick up at the beginning but then once i got used to the cycle of being friends w toño (eris cycle ) it made me want to read more to see when the cycle would be disrupted. instead the cycle was only extended and the worse that could happen constantly changed..
i liked this book but at times during the end it dragged on . it was very entertaining and it took a bit for it to pick up at the beginning but then once i got used to the cycle of being friends w toño (eris cycle ) it made me want to read more to see when the cycle would be disrupted. instead the cycle was only extended and the worse that could happen constantly changed..
July 30, 2024
this book is so incredibly beautiful. as a political satire, it succeeds; i saw one review that compared it to swift’s a modest proposal, and i feel like that’s very accurate. the book is not a story of good vs evil, heroism, or anything like that; it is simply the story of evil left unchecked. eri is not a foil, as some have suggested, of toño; he is just a bystander and a documentarian. in the book, we come to feel shameful of ourselves as we view toño through eri’s lens, almost being compared to eri as a bystander by the author. toño dictates a world unchecked, a world in which evil is not just the norm; it is the aesthetic, it is how people reach orgasm, it is in the food and the water, it is in the gods they worship.
April 27, 2025
Interesting and brutal –� we follow Eri through a series of vignettes about his friendship with Toño, a kind of antichrist-type figure whose parallels/dissonances with religious dogma get thicker as the story goes on. Toño represents a dark past and doomed future, a kind of collective id for all of Colombia –� both in terms of what he has endured in his life and in the horrors he is capable of exacting on others. Parts of this book were edgy enough to make my eyes roll, but much of it was incredibly earnest and incredibly stark. Something (read: the way sexual violence was depicted) tells me that this may well have been a profound and solidly 5-star read if it had been written by a woman, lol.
January 5, 2024
The first section is rendered so vividly, I was hooked; the second section I found the writing too intentionally dark and off-putting. By the last coda, I was just waiting for the book to be over. A bit of a shame, as I think the structure of this book could have been rearranged to greater effect (there's a framing device that could have used a second look). Still glad to have read this, as it had been on my shelf for a while and I have a great fondness for Latin American writers; this one just slightly missed the mark for me. 3/5.
March 12, 2024
Toño ciruelo, es un personaje arrogante, asesino, sin pena, subyugador.
La historia nos va a presentar a Eri, el narrador de esta historia, un personaje que le tiene respeto y miedo a Toño, por la forma de ser, de vivir y expresar sus sentimientos, pues Eri sabe que Toño lo que quiere lo obtiene a las buenas o a las malas, un hombre que vive en la oscuridad, con una bestia dormida en su mente, pero cuando la despierta y descarrila se vuelve la persona más bisarra.
Acá les dejo la reseña de este muy buen libro
La historia nos va a presentar a Eri, el narrador de esta historia, un personaje que le tiene respeto y miedo a Toño, por la forma de ser, de vivir y expresar sus sentimientos, pues Eri sabe que Toño lo que quiere lo obtiene a las buenas o a las malas, un hombre que vive en la oscuridad, con una bestia dormida en su mente, pero cuando la despierta y descarrila se vuelve la persona más bisarra.
Acá les dejo la reseña de este muy buen libro
June 30, 2023
If I could give it zero stars, I would. This is pretentious in the extreme. It glories puerile sexuality as if it’s something profound and, most egregiously, revels in suffering. There is a lot of sexual violence, mostly against women, and there is nothing to redeem it. There is a way to write about misogynist monsters without being misogynistic but this author has failed. I only finished it because I kept waiting for it all to get better- it didn’t.
April 28, 2024
One of the many feats of this work is that the prose functions exactly as Ciruelo does: all a sudden you realize you’ve been hypnotized by it. You’re under its spell, and you’re compelled to continue. If not for the rather dumbfounding and abbreviated final section (Ciruelo’s notebook), this would have been a full five stars from me. Even so, a remarkable work who had me under its spell from start to finish. Incendiary prose and indelible scenes.
April 18, 2023
It’s a lot. Engrossing and gross.
April 8, 2024
“Solitario, parecía que no existía de tanto existir�
“Así terminan las más férreas amistades y los más grandes amores, como un viaje�
“Así terminan las más férreas amistades y los más grandes amores, como un viaje�
June 12, 2024
A story from Colombia about Colombia (hippies, murder, lies, Christ-figures, lust, and depravation). Metaphor of Church and State and its dangerous implications.
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August 15, 2024Rosero just leaves you completely breathless and in disbelief of what you're even reading on the page
June 8, 2025
rosero’s narrative pulls you in from start to finish, painting a beautiful scene and a disturbing friendship.
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